Only Make Believe
by K M Carroll
Summary: Previously titled "Never Quite Patria" but reuploaded because the author doesn't like to read her old stuff before she posts it. Enjolras keeps a girl, but not in the way you think.


**A/N: Thank you, anonymous reviewer, for having me actually read this before I posted it. I fixed the problems you pointed out, I think, and now it's at least sort of canon. Also, to clear things up, the narrator is an orphan or something, sent to live with Enjolras because 'there was no place for her to stay' *cough* hisunclewasthrowingwomenathi mandgettingwaytoointohispers onallife.**

**Ahem. I'm not Victor Hugo, and the song is "It's Only Make Believe" by Conway Twitty. Enjoy!**

_People see us everywhere  
They think you really care  
But myself I can't deceive  
I know it's only make believe_

I suppose, if I think about it, I never expected him to stay—in fact, I knew he wouldn't. His heart was as chained in the stars as it was to his country. All the same, I waited up for him to come home every night, so I could see the revolutionary fire still flickering in his eyes. I almost kissed him, once, and it was the single most mortifying instance of my life. He'd come to wake me up before he left for the day, and I, being more than half asleep, reached up a hand to stroke his cheek before pulling his face down to mine. He recoiled sharply with this look of disgust in his eyes.

I blanched, very awake. I don't know why he let me stay after that. Besides being, as I heard him tell one of his friends, a 'treacherous snake,' I was no longer the little kid that his uncle dropped at his doorstep. I could've taken care of myself by then.

_My one and only prayer  
Is that someday you'll care  
My hopes my dreams come true  
My one and only you_

One evening, when he was sitting up against my legs, he turned around to look up at me. His eyes were burning.

"Why do you stay?" he asked.

"Why don't you ask me to leave?" I shot back.

"I need someone to clean for me, cook for me. I'm too busy to do it myself."

"I'd do anything you asked me to," I mumbled quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget about it."

"If you say so."

I didn't have a real reason to stay with him. Honestly, I didn't have a real reason to love him. I did, though, maybe because I thought he needed someone to love him, even if he'd never love in return.

_No one will ever know  
How much I love you so  
My only prayer will be  
Someday you'll care for me  
But it's only make believe_

The look in his eyes that I loved the most ended up being the death of him. He saw injustice in his world, and dove headfirst into rebellion. I tried to change his mind, but he'd always been immutable, and most loyal friends fell beside him. When he didn't come home from his revolution, his one true love, it dawned on me just how young he was-he would've been twenty-seven in December. I cried for days. In the streets, people I knew, and some strangers, gave me piteous looks when they might've smiled before. They never mentioned it directly, but they knew. They probably knew better than I did. I'd offer them shaky smiles, like I would get over myself eventually. After he was dead and buried, and nearly forgotten, I spent most nights after work staring blankly into the fire. I'd often pretend that I was waiting for him to come home, and that maybe he'd had a rough day. Maybe he'd sit against my legs and complain about his drunken friend. My eyes would trick me by interpreting a flash at the window as his face passing towards the door, or perceiving shadows that weren't really there. The sun had gone down, the night had set in, and I couldn't stop dreaming.

_My hope my dreams come true  
My life I'd give for you  
My heart a wedding ring  
My all my everything  
My heart I can't control  
You rule my very soul  
My prayers, my hopes, my schemes  
You are my every dream  
But it's only make believe_

Speaking of dreams, they were like Heaven in the midst of my personal Hell. Most of the time, he would only smile at me, but he was there. I could've reached out and touched him if I hadn't been so afraid that he'd dissolve at the slightest brush of my fingers. In the morning, though, the absolute stillness of my world was two times more crushing than it had been the night before.

His funeral, in the quiet upper room of his father's house, was open casket, and he looked so fresh and peaceful that he might've been sleeping. He was painfully beautiful, even in death. I watched as his parents made their silent reconciliations with their estranged son, shooting me, in passing, sad but grateful smiles-I had looked after their child when he wouldn't be looked after. I bowed my head in apology-I hadn't looked after him well enough.

_My one and only prayer  
Is that someday you'll care  
My hopes, my dreams come true  
My one and only you  
No one will ever know  
How much I love you so  
My only prayer will be  
Someday you'll care for me_

The nights were getting colder; they had been for a while. The first snow of the season, directly followed by the first freak blizzard in centuries, cleared my head a little bet, and got me thinking. What exactly was I holding out for? I felt as if I'd spent the past few months waiting for something to happen. I realized that I had to move forward, somehow.

Soon, a new kind of sadness evolved out of the old, and it was of a sweeter habit. I didn't avoid thinking about him, and so I thought of him less often. I felt my heart overflowing, and I laughed with my friends for the first time in too long. I decided that I might be okay, after all.

Out of sadness, new love is born.

_But it's only make believe_


End file.
